


Dark Lord Smurf

by ScotlandEvander



Series: Over the Rainbow [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dark Magic, Dark Mark, Death Eaters, Family Drama, Gen, Worst Birthday Present Ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotlandEvander/pseuds/ScotlandEvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regulus was sure he’d stopped breathing. He’d turn blue. Into a Smurf.</p><p>A giggle of laughter attempted to escape as Regulus pictured the Dark Lord as a Smurf. It was too insane not to picture at this moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Lord Smurf

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

Dread. 

That was the only feeling Regulus could really identify. 

Dread.

Walburga Black sat tall and proud at the head of the dinning room table, regarding Regulus with what looked like disdain. Since he’d returned home from school, the house had been quiet. With Sirius gone, there were no more fights, no more arguments, no more bangs, curses or crashes.

It was too quiet. 

That should have tipped Regulus off. 

The distain was the second clue his life was over. 

She knew. Regulus had no idea how, but his mother knew. Exactly what she knew, Regulus was not sure, but she did not approve of whatever she knew. 

The third and final clue that the life of Regulus Black was forfeit? 

Bellatrix was coming over to take Regulus out for his birthday. That could only mean one thing. 

“You will join,” Walburga announced, her piercing grey gaze, so unlike his brother’s even if they shared the same colored eyes, slicing through him. “It will honor the family to have one of our own in the Dark Lord’s ranks. His goals are our own. Correct, Orion?” 

“Correct as usual,” his father said from the other end of the table. His voice lacked any emotions, any feeling. He almost sounded mocking. 

“I am,” Walburga insisted, glancing at her husband in scorn. 

Regulus frowned. He felt as if he’d missed something important during his panic after his mother announced Bellatrix was on her way to take him out. Bellatrix would only take him to one place. She’d promised so much after Christmas. 

“I’m too young,” Regulus tried. “I’m only fifteen.”

“You are sixteen today. And old enough to join the ranks to keep the Dark Lord apprised on the goings on within the school. Narcissa has graduated, along with her fellow seventh years in his ranks. So, there is a need for trusted individuals to keep the Dark Lord apprised.” 

Cold dread filled Regulus’ stomach. It curdled and took up residence. 

“You must honor the family,” his mother insisted in a loaded tone. “After the dishonor we’ve had at the hands of that….abomination.”

His mother hissed, while he father remained stoney. 

“We must get you back on track,” his mother went on. She pulled a piece of parchment, a look of disgust on her face. “Narcissa wrote me to me all school year, insisting you were consorting with that American still.”

Walburga spit out the world “American” as if she’d spoken “Mudblood” or “Half-breed.” Regulus felt his blood run cold. He’d be frozen soon. Frozen and dead. 

“It is distasteful and you clearly did not stop when I told you to cease your association with a dirty American. I do not care if she’s a Black, she is not of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. She will never be part of my house.”

If she could, his mother would murder him with her eyes. 

She knew. She knew he’d fallen in love with Atlanta. And her answer was to throw him to the Dark Lord. 

Regulus struggled to remain upright and tall in his chair. If he were Sirius, he’d be shouting, yelling and defending Atlanta. Regulus was not Sirius, so he allowed his mother’s tirade to go on a bit longer, her words more degrading by the minute. Regulus felt sick with himself, his situation, his family. 

Mostly himself. He was mute while his mother bad mouthed the woman he loved. 

His heart warmed a bit as he thought about Atlanta. She was in Edinburgh working with the Spellsmiths there, toiling to be able to obtain her Mastery in the profession a year out of school. It did not surprise Regulus. She was wise beyond her years, even if others took it as a sign of insanity. They weren’t privy to her back history, did not know her fully story. 

Regulus would see Atlanta tomorrow. She had been unable to come down to London today. 

Not that it mattered. His life was ending tonight. 

“Bella will be along shortly and you will go with her to meet the Dark Lord,” Walburga went on, tossing the parchment aside. “You will join his ranks and bring us honor. You will make us proud. A member of our house within the inner circle of the Dark Lord will serve the House well.”

His father snorted his agreement, though Regulus felt that his father didn’t fully agree. Regulus’ cowardliness and weakness clearly came from his father, while Sirius’ will to do whatever came from his mother. Not that Sirius felt the need to force his views onto others in the manner their mother chose.

“But, I’m sixteen,” Regulus repeated. 

“It is time to grow up,” his mother snapped. “You are the heir. The future head of the house of my Fathers.”

Regulus gulped. A spiral of hate spun in his stomach towards his brother, who had left him alone in the house. All his mother’s need to suppress and force was now upon Regulus. 

“Make us proud, Regulus. That is all I’m asking. Bring back the pride we’ve lost thanks to your so called brother,” she said, spitting out the world “brother” with disgust. “Make us proud.”

The last statement felt like a knife to his heart. He wanted to make his family proud. He wanted to bring them honor and pride. He wanted to bring the family greatness and make his parents proud of him. He wanted to be able to stand up tall and not have people snickering behind his back thanks to his brother. Even with Atlanta at his side, he still felt like he had a target on his head. 

He had to meet great expectations. He was all the Black family had left, as Sirius had turned away. 

Regulus swallowed thickly and nodded his consent. Somewhere, far up north, Atlanta was going about her life, not knowing Regulus could feel a bit of his soul die as every second ticked by. 

“That’s a good boy, Regulus,” his mother cooed in a very soft voice. She gave him a smile, though it was without much feeling and looked strange. Walburga didn’t smile often. 

In another room, the fire roared loudly and they heard Bellatrix calling out. 

“Hello? Auntie, Uncle? Cousin Regs?”

He hated being called _Regs_. 

“We’re in here, Bella darling,” his mother called out, her voice suddenly dripping with sweetness. It made Regulus’ skin crawl. 

Bellatrix Lastrange appeared in the doorway, dressed in her best robes and her black hair swept up to show off her haunting features. Her heavy lidded eyes were bright with excitement as she took in the gathering of the Black family. 

“I take it the family meeting went well?” she asked, taking the seat across from Regulus. She beamed at him, a slight hint of crazy in her dark eyes. 

“It did. He’s seen the error of his ways and has agreed to make the family proud.”

“Wonderful,” Bellatrix cooed in a sicking voice. “The Dark Lord is very excited to meet you, Regs.”

Regulus steeled himself. He needed to be brave, needed to stand tall and put his pureblood training into effect. Clearing his mind, he pulled out his most practice, cold smile. 

The Little Prince was back. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said smoothly, elegantly. 

It felt like slipping back into a pair of trousers he’d long forgotten about. They still fit somewhat uneasily, but it was a pair he knew he’d be able to wear for a while till he could find his favorite pair. His act fooled all three people in the room. His father’s eye brow twitched a bit, his mother looked even more thrilled and Bellatrix looked like she was going to burst from being excited that Regulus had finally come back to the Dark Side. 

He hadn’t really left, only meandered over into the other side; only entertained for a few moments of not going Jedi. As Atlanta would have said. 

Atlanta did seem to use terms from that one Muggle movie often when discussing the Dark Arts. She said it fit wonderfully for the situation. Granted, Regulus had no clue what she was talking about. He’d never understood her explanation of Siths and Jedis. Made about as much sense as Klingons, Romulans and Borgs. 

Another bit of him died as he realized he was never going to figure it out. 

Could he really do this? Turn his back to Atlanta, who would not want anything to do with him once he was part of the Dark Lord’s movement? 

His famiily’s values: keeping the blood pure. That was what the Dark Lord preached. That was what his family believed, the Dark Lord believed. 

Did Regulus?

No. He hadn’t for a long time. The woman he loved with wasn’t pureblood. She wasn’t even a half blood or half breed. She was something all together new. Unique. 

The Dark Lord would kill her on sight if he ever met her. 

Regulus was sixteen and scared. He did not know what to do, could not see a way to get out of this situation alive. 

Still wearing his blank smile, he noticed Bellatrix standing. “We must get going, Regulus. The Dark Lord wishes to meet with you tonight. I’m to bring you to him. Are you ready?”

No. He was not ready. He wanted to scream like a girl and run away. 

He did not do this, though. He slowly looked to his mother, who nodded. Rising, Regulus pushed his chair in and followed after his cousin, walking to his death. Bellatrix walked out the front door and down the stairs to the square. It was dark, so Regulus doubted the Muggles would notice them. She grabbed his arm and didn’t ask for his permission before she twisted on the spot, sucking Regulus into nothingness. 

He appeared again, feeling sick to his stomach outside the grounds to the Lastrange Manor. Without a word, Bellatrix jerked Regulus and all but dragged him into the house. She dropped his arm in the entrance and handed him dark black robes. She herself donned a pair and a white mask. Throwing her hood up, she glanced over at Regulus. 

“Wear those. The Dark Lord will give you a mask and your mark tonight,” she screeched, sounding like a giddy teenager going to see her favorite pop star perform. Clever girls turned into simpering, screaming idiots at the mere mention of a name. Bellatrix’s obsession with the Dark Lord was akin to Muggle’s girls obsession with pop stars. 

Odd how something so not Muggle could be described with a phenomenon that only happened in the Muggle world. There were no pop stars in the wizaridng world. 

Regulus took the robes and slouched out of his other robes. These robes felt rough, not like the ones he’d just taken off. He bit down a sigh and a scream and followed Bellatrix back outside. She grabbed his arm again without asking and twisted yet again. 

They popped into a forest somewhere. He could hear the howls of the animals and the low murmur of voices in a clearing ahead of them. Still holding Regulus’s arm in a death grip, Bellatrix dragged him forward. 

“I have him, Master,” Bellatrix breathed, breaking through the circle gathered around a tall, thin man. 

The man slowly turned around, his black robes swirling around him. He wore a hooded black cloak so Regulus couldn’t make out his face. Everyone else in the clearing all wore the same robes Regulus had been given. He was approached by a man without a face while everyone else looked the same except for shape and height. Each factor to identify was too vague to give identities.  

“Ah, Master Black,” the man said, in a cold, high voice. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I’ve heard so much about how great your family is and how strongly they believe in my cause.”

Regulus nodded. Bellatrix shoved him froward into the center of the circle. Regulus, like a child, stumbled on the hem of the robes. They were much too long for him. He decided to go with the stumble and crashed to his knees in front of the man he assumed was the Dark Lord. Keeping all his emotions in check and hidden, Regulus managed not to throw up at the man’s feet. 

“Yes, my Lord,” Regulus succeeded in getting out of his mouth. 

“Ah, you are scared,” the man said, not surprised. “There is no need for that, my boy. Please stand up.”

Regulus slowly got to his feet, trying to hold himself proudly and with honor. Squaring his shoulders, he stood straight, but kept his eyes trained on a spot behind the man in front of him. 

“Now, Bellatrix tells me you’ve always been a good boy and held strong with pureblood beliefs. You do not like Muggles at all?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Mudbloods?”

“Are disgusting,” he answered automatically. 

“Blood traitors?”

“Should be wiped out.”

“Like your brother?”

“I hate my brother,” Regulus spit out. 

That much was true. He did have hate for his brother. It was his brother’s fault he was in this situation. It as his brother’s fault Atlanta had begun to hang out with the Marauders more often after that stupid stunt Sirius pulled with Snape. It was his brother’s fault for pushing his mother to the point she locked him in the cellar, in the dark. It was Sirius’ fault he was so different and refused to just blend in. 

It was Sirius’ fault. Everything was Sirius’ fault. 

“Good, good. That is very true,” the Dark Lord said, almost sounding amused. “Now, while Bella wasn’t too happy about this, I have heard you are quite close a child named Atlanta Black who has been studying at Hogwarts.”

Regulus felt his blood freeze. His heart stopped beating. 

“I’m told by my source she’s rather…talented.”

Several people hissed behind Regulus.

“Ah, ah, ah. None of that. While I know you hold Americans in distain, they are still purebloods and wizards. Their society has the same faults that ours has. In order to start our new world, we will need all the pureblood support we can munster. You do not believe we can change wizarding society with just the few pure families left in Britain? No, we need international support. And Regulus has brought us a clear link to America. And the Black Family.”

Regulus was sure he’d stopped breathing. He’d turn blue. Into a Smurf.

A giggle of laughter attempted to escape as Regulus pictured the Dark Lord as a Smurf. It was too insane not to picture at this moment. 

“She’s a blood traitor, Master,” Bellatrix announced. “She associates with Mudbloods and knows a lot about the Muggle world. And she’s friends with….blood traitors. She has no connection to the pureblood Blacks! She is likely a halfblood!”

Smurfs. Those weird blue things….cartoons. Regulus enjoyed cartoons. Atlanta drew them for him so he’d know what she was talking about. He enjoyed the amusing drawings. She had drawn a Smurf for him after something in Herbology had reminded her of the little blue things. 

She’d be laughing now if she could see what Regulus was picturing. Himself and the Dark Lord as Smurfs. 

It was getting rather hard not to laugh. 

“Faults, for sure, Bella. We can over look her blood status. I have for many of you. She’s the only connection to the Americans we have at the moment. Do any of you know any of the pureblood houses in America?”

Silence. 

“I know for a fact the Black Family in America holds my beliefs same as you do. Altair Black is a supporter, but his father refuses to allow him to join us. But, we need an ambassador. Someone who can pave the way for us. We’re seen as a terrorist group by the mainstream here,” the Dark Lord explained. 

Regulus could feel the Dark Lord’s eyes on him, as he was still trying to control his out of place need to laugh, loudly. That was something Sirius did, laugh at the wrong moments instead of scream.

“We need this…Atlanta Black on our side.”

There was a strange tone in the Dark Lord’s voice as he said her name. 

“While I know she’s currently an orphan, if she wanted, she could make inroads with the current, high ranking members of her family, could she not? I know they’d value a powerful relative such as her. I have not seen such power since my sister.”

Regulus was on the verge of hyperventilating. He wanted to scream, cry and laugh all at once. He nodded, as he was afraid to speak. If he opened his mouth, he really more than likely laugh. He tried to banish all thoughts of Smurfs from his head. He needed to concentrate on his current predicament. 

Regulus, while weak willed and scared, was not stupid. He knew Atlanta would never join the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord would not be able to manipulate Atlanta, blackmail her or anything in order for her to join his cause and work for him. 

She would rather die than join Voldemort.

Just like Sirius.

Atlanta was a lot like Sirius. Much more than Regulus cared to admit. 

The thought sobered him up.

Wait, has the Dark Lord said he had a sister? 

“I have been told that Miss Black is a horrible potion maker, but a master at Charms. A future Spellsmith, correct, Master Black?” the Dark Lord asked, fingering his long, slim wand. Regulus looked into the face of the Dark Lord. He couldn’t make out anything, as the hood cast his entire face into the shadows. 

Regulus nodded. “She is doing an apprenticeship this summer with the Spellsmiths.” 

“Wonderful, wonderful,” the Dark Lord murmured. “Regulus you will make it your goal to pursued Miss Black to join us. We need her skills, her connections. Her power.”

Regulus felt himself nod, a cold shiver running through him. There was something oddly familiar when the Dark Lord spoke about power.  

He felt the Dark Lord circle close so he could speak in Regulus’ ear. 

“You love her, do you not?” 

Regulus stopped breathing. Could the Dark Lord read minds? How did he know? 

Oh, no. He’d find out the Smurf. 

“You do. You are worthy of her attention, being who you are. You best make her see right,” the Dark Lord whispered. He didn’t even need to threatened what would happen if Regulus failed.  

The Dark Lord straightened up. Regulus struggled not to fall over. The Dark Lord came to stand in front of Regulus, tossing his wand back and forth in his hands. He had unnatural long, white fingers. 

Not very Smurf-like.

 _Stop thinking about damn Smurfs_ , Regulus chided himself. 

“It’s your birthday, today, is it not?”

“It is, my Lord.”

“Well, let’s give you a present,” the Dark Lord said, his ghostly white hand darting out. 

The hand hooked around Regulus’ left arm. Using his wand the Dark Lord pushed the sleeve back to reveal Regulus’ forearm. Regulus chanced it and glanced up into the face of the Dark Lord. It was a sicking sight. The Dark Lord did not look human. His eyes were bloodshot and his nose was almost flat. The skin across his face was stretched tightly, blurring what were once handsome features. His skin was unnaturally white, like paint in a can. The red bloodshot eyes were trained on Regulus and met his grey-blue ones. There was no emotion in those red eyes at all. They were fathomless pits of doom. 

“Happy birthday, Master Black,” the man hissed, an evil smile on his lips. 

The wand tip pressed into Regulus’ skin and the burning began. At first it wasn’t too bad, but soon the pain was so great, Regulus felt his knees buckle and a scream rip out of his mouth. Pain was all he could feel— it swallowed him whole until suddenly it was gone. He was left panting on the grass on all fours. 

“Stand, Master Black.”

Without hesitation, Regulus stood up. 

He must obey Lord Smurf. 

Regulus didn’t even want to look at his arm. It burned like it was glowing, letting the world see it through the sleeve covering his arm what had just happened.  

“Please, let us welcome Master Black to our ranks,” the Dark Lord said, extending a white mask to Regulus. He took it and slipped it on. “Bring forth the entertainment.”

Unsure what to do, Regulus remained where he was till he noticed the Dark Lord indicating to him to join the circle. He walked over to the edge of the circle and stood between two tall figures. 

“I’m glad you’ve seen the light.”

Regulus tensed for a moment. He knew that voice. He slowly looked up and saw a sneer on the lips of the person next to him. The sneer was familiar. 

Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa’s boyfriend, soon to be fiance.

“Yes,” Regulus replied as he heard screams begin. 

He stared to the center of the circle now to see a few Muggles being unceremoniously dumped in the middle. 

Once again, it was amazing Regulus did not throw up. Instead he focused on Dark Lord Smurf, whose white wand was actually a Sugar Quill and spit out words written in sugar. 


End file.
